


Halocene (girl!Mark/Eduardo)

by ohnvm



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: F/M, girl!Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnvm/pseuds/ohnvm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You should have sex with me so I could get over it"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halocene (girl!Mark/Eduardo)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt - always-a-girl!Mark and Eduardo never got it on back at Harvard, even though Eduardo was so in love with her it was ridiculous.
> 
> In the years since the depositions, he dated and tried to get on with his life, but no one ever made his insides squirm quite like Mark did. This makes him somewhat depressed. When his latest girlfriend dumps him ("you just don't seem present in this relationship"), he's in California and Mark is there and maybe it's Dustin's wedding or something--there is a lot of alcohol around. Eduardo gets very drunk and finds Mark and it all comes out: how she ruined him for all women, etc. etc. and demands that they have sex--if he finally gets to have her (according to his drunken logic), maybe he'll be able to get her out of his system! She owes him the one time!
> 
> To his complete shock, Mark says yes.

"You're drunk," is pretty much how Mark can only respond to the incredibly long spiel on how she ruined every person, men or women, for Eduardo. Mark can't really say much else for herself since she's actually two shots away from decidedly passing out on the plush carpet Dustin insisted on buying for Mark's first solo-owned house.

Which is exactly why they're drinking anyway. The house, not the carpet. She's just moved out of the flat she insisted on sharing with Dustin because what use is a house to her anyway, she's on her own. But then Dustin got himself a girlfriend and Mark already heard Dustin rubbing off one too many times and she's grown more or less used to it, but she thinks if she hears them fuck one more time, she may end up murdering the only person who even dared to stay with her for this long.

Yeah, Mark's drunk enough to fall into an even more self-deprecating inner monologue, what of it?

So that's how she finds herself sitting behind her sofa clutching her own bottle of whiskey (Mark hates whiskey but she's not in the mood to fight over bottles with Sean who had total control of Mark's mini bar at the moment. Mark didn't even know this house had a mini bar.) and trying to drink the night away so she could happily pass out.

Then Eduardo plopped down next to her with his own bottle of alcohol—vodka, thank fuck—and started on explaining the many way Mark is a horrible cockblocking person who had cockblocked Eduardo all his life even if Mark is technically oceans away from him as he's philandering around in Asia, trying to avoid the void or whatever it is he's doing.

"Mark, you don't understand. You don't. I hate you but I don't hate you. That's the problem."

The thing is, though, they've talked before this. Mark would even say they're somehow close to being acquaintances. It took them two years of no contact and the dealbreaker had somehow been a random comment about a chicken during one of the many harrowing shareholder's meetings they now have to sit through. Surprisingly enough, it was Eduardo who had commented. And surprisingly enough, they didn't look away when they met each other's eyes. They laughed. And then more talking developed from then on.

"You're really drunk."

"Mark, my girlfriend for eight months told me I wasn't present in the relationship and that I wasn't emotionally attached to her and you know why, Mark? You know why? Because of you! My emotions are still with you! Give them back!"

Mark steals Eduardo's vodka then takes a swig from it. "I don't have your emotions, Wardo. I don't have any emotions."

"You so do"

"I do not"

"You do"

"No"

"You should have sex with me so I could get over it"

Mark basically chokes on the vodka she's trying to knock back. It takes her five maybe ten seconds to stop the burning pain in her throat and the resulting tears in her eyes to hiss "are you fucking serious?"

"Yes"

"The answer is no."

"Mark—"

"Eduardo, let me finish." Mark holds up a hand and tries to put it in front of Eduardo's face but she quickly trashes the idea and just holds up her hand as steadily as she could in her current state of inebriation. "I'm buzzed—"

Eduardo snorts because she is so not _just buzzed_ but Mark ignores him. "—I'm buzzed and you're drunk. Bad idea. But if—if tomorrow you still want to have sex then—by tomorrow I mean sober, by the way—Then okay. We'll have sex so you could... let it go."

It doesn't take a nanosecond for Eduardo to agree by nodding repeatedly and enthusiastically.

Mark lets herself chortle. "Okay. Okay, Wardo."

Eduardo's eyes gets even rounder and he looks completely awed for a moment, just staring at Mark's face (which she's sure is flushed and disgusting—much like Eduardo's, actually) and smiling goofily like he did back in Harvard when he thinks Mark did something awesome that made Eduardo genuinely happy.

"Can I kiss you right now though?" He asks breathlessly, gaze moving away from Mark's eyes to Mark's lips.

Mark blinks up at him and leans forward. Eduardo meets her halfway.

The kiss is soft and tentative; the kind of kiss people share on the bed during Sunday mornings without getting up to brush their teeth first. (It's accurate, since their breaths are pretty bad right now). It's enough to make something in Mark's chest stutter like it used to during the days when they weren't talking and Mark would smell someone wearing the same perfume as his. Like a tug of nostalgia and too many missed chances on something Mark doesn't even know herself.

They somehow end up horizontal on the floor, just kissing and kissing without any heat nor hurry, hands gentle on each other's skin—not pulling nor marking—just casual touches that comfort the other of the other's presence. It feels nice.

Mark thinks Eduardo falls asleep first but Mark was too busy falling asleep herself to know anyway.

—

 

They wake up tangled on the floor with a blanket thrown over them. The house is quiet and Mark's pretty sure someone (Chris) probably shushed everyone out after finding Mark actually asleep, albeit on uncomfortably so on the floor.

But then it doesn't feel uncomfortable. It kind of even feels nice being this near to Eduardo when she hasn't been in his personal space for so long; being able to breathe him in, the scent of his perfume on his own skin reminding her of the pillow she let herself be pushed down on after Eduardo coaxed her away from a coding binge several years ago. Mark feels old all of sudden.

She doesn't watch him sleep but she curls herself to the side so she could fully face Eduardo, careful not to jostle the arm he flung around her when they'd both been asleep.

It's maybe a half an hour later when Mark feels Eduardo's breathing change and she's pretty sure he's awake now; probably confused then probably already on his way to realising the way they had fallen asleep. To her surprise though, Eduardo doesn't pull away; just leans over and presses his lips on her forehead. It's not a kiss, but somehow Mark feels her heart break a little.

She opens her eyes and meets his. They give each other tentative smiles and Mark's tired of being awkward with him. She wants whatever awkwardness between them gone. Because what Mark wants more than anything in her life right now is for her to be friends with Eduardo again. To lose all the aborted gestures and sentences that trails off in silence, not sure if they're allowed.

"Hey, Mark," Eduardo breathes out, breath stale but not enough for Mark to pull away from the cocoon of make-believe warmth they surrounded themselves with on the carpet of Mark's living room.

"Are you sober now?"

"Yes"

"Good"

Then before Eduardo could say something else, before their hangovers could impale them, Mark pulls herself up until she is straddling Eduardo before leaning down and kissing him.

The kiss is disgusting but glorious. Incongruent but perfect in every way. If Eduardo claims to say that she's ruined all the people for him, then Mark could honestly say she sympathises. But not in the way Eduardo probably means. Because Mark doesn't look for brown eyes and puffy hair when she tries to look for someone to have sex with but she does end up looking for minute gestures; the shape of a hand on the small of her back leading her way, a comfortable silence shared in her room as she does her work and they do theirs.

Mark's long since given up denying that she misses Eduardo.

And she's long since given up denying that if, in another universe, if Mark had been more receptive and if Eduardo listened when Mark wanted him to, then they could have something that would have lasted.

But Mark's never been the one to dwell on the what-ifs. She lives in the now, the present—she has a lot to be thankful for. She has a lot to be proud of. And it probably wouldn't be the same if Mark hadn't done what she did. She sees no use in regretting when she had been able to build this empire from scratch. A mere idea in the dirty room in Kirkland turned into something that took over the world—something that was able to help save lives—Mark's grown old enough to become less selfish.

She wouldn't have done things differently knowing that the world gets to have Facebook; people get to talk and keep up with the lives of the ones they love whilst being countries away. People get to socialise and reach out and even greater than that, Facebook is one of the sites that helped bridge gaps and be a platform where people could speak for their ideas.

That's incredible and Mark wouldn't want to lose that.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't want Eduardo with her. That doesn't mean she didn't want to share everything about Facebook to Eduardo; because Eduardo used to be the first person she would turn to when she gets an idea because Mark knows he would understand. And losing that distinct feeling of knowing that she could look to the side and he would always be there? That's something she prefers not to have happened.

So maybe she's hung up on him too. This is why she agrees and this is why she's kissing him viciously; to rid of it and move on so they could be friends again because Mark's not ready for another two years of not having Eduardo to share a joke with, even over texts and emails.

Mark pulls away for a second, his hands on her thighs pushing her down against his crotch. "You sure about this?"

Eduardo nods, pupils blown wide and mouth parted so Mark kisses him again only now it's a kiss tinged with a hint of desperation. She doesn't take her time because she wants to get this over with soon. He yanks Eduardo's button-down apart and before Eduardo could protest, she silences him with a "I'll buy you five of those, shut the fuck up and kiss me on the neck again"

She rakes her nails on his skin and takes a second to watch angry lines appear on his chest before diving down, searing his taste on her tongue and mapping his skin with the flat of her hand. Eduardo's making these noises that just shoots down her spine and makes her stomach contract with pleasure.

They touch for a few minutes, frantically removing clothes off each other and moaning at the first touch of skin on skin.

"Condom?"

"In my wallet"

"Where is your wallet?"

"—Fuck"

Mark rolls her eyes and tries to look for the wallet she last saw in the guest room and _fuck it_ , Mark quickly dashes to where she shoved some condoms in the lowest drawer of the side table before dashing back quicker than she left.

Eduardo growls and narrows his eyes at her.

She doesn't even bother explaining and just rips the wrapper off. She gives him three quick jerks before putting it on him.

"Eduardo," she calls out as she lines his cock on her cunt. He looks up and Mark sinks herself down.

It doesn't take them very long - quick, harsh thrusts and a few trick moves Mark learned to do with her hips and they're both coming. Mark can feel him throb inside her and she thinks of how it would have felt like if they could trust each other enough to fuck without condoms on.

Some time along the way, as they push and pull and thrust and moan; their hands found their own way to the other, clutching, clinging, and holding on.

—

 

They don't say anything after. Mark shakily pulls herself up and remove the condom from Eduardo, tying the end and somehow moving to the nearest bin she could find.

Mark gathers her clothes and puts them on as Eduardo wordlessly does the same.

It's not awkward but it's not what Mark hoped it would be like.

Because somehow, she is lonelier now than she had been then. That somehow she wants him more now than she did before—wants him not just as a friend but as someone she would know so intimately that she wouldn't have to see him to point down the trail of beauty marks splattered all over his body.

They share small talk over breakfast that Chris probably left for them, forgoing the dining table and just sitting on both ends of the huge sofa Mark bought to accomodate who she's long since referred to as her friends.

It's six hours before Eduardo's evening flight when Mark manages to bring up what they've been skirting around for the whole day because she really does not want to have something to skirt around Eduardo with. She's exhausted of that because they're friends.

"So, did that help?" She asks, cutting him off in the middle of his rant about the lack of snow in Singapore and of how he misses America sometimes.

Eduardo doesn't pretend not to understand but he remains quiet, expression contemplative and a little hesitant. Then he's taking a deep breath and meeting Mark's eyes and Mark tries to tamp down the incredible surge of I love you bubbling up her lips.

"I—no. No."

Mark nods in understanding. "What now, then?"

"I don't know, Mark."

"Well, what do you want?"

"What?"

"What do you want to happen now?"

Eduardo makes a wounded sound and lets his head fall back on the back of the sofa, eyes staring up the tastefully cream-coloured ceiling of Mark's common room.

"No, seriously Wardo, what do you want to happen now?"

If Mark's hand is twitching to reach forward and hold his, no one's going to call her out on it.

"Mark—"

"Tell me."

"I can't just tell you what I want!"

"Why not?"

"Because!" and Mark can see the doubts and the terrible need to protect himself from the vulnerability he has for Mark. Mark sees those because she's pretty sure she feels those herself—for Eduardo who left, Eduardo who closed the account, Eduardo who didn't come out. It hurts but Mark's always been the kind of person to jump down a challenge head on, uncaring of the hurt and the fracture of everything she wants to believe in. So Mark stops hesitating and just pulls his hand to hers.

He looked up and eyes her warily; like he's not sure if this is such a good idea. Mark is so exhausted of it.

"Eduardo, I'm sorry that I hurt you," because this is something she knows she should have said during the first few weeks of them talking. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"And I'm sorry that I didn't realise I love you until—well, until you didn't want to be with me anymore."

"Mark—"

"No. You don't have to say anything right now. Actually, you don't have to say anything at all, I'm just glad I was able to tell you. Just so you would know. Okay."

—

 

Eduardo leaves her house in the car service they arranged for him weeks before the party for Mark's house.

Mark's not hurt. She's glad he knows. She's also glad that she knows to herself that the awkwardness would diminish the next time Eduardo's in town but. But Mark is strangely disappointed with... something.

Then someone is banging on her door and she's trying not to hope but it's the kind of disjointed rhythm Eduardo knocks with.

"Hey—" she starts to greet but Eduardo is pushing her in and closing the door behind him and then he's kissing her and Mark's head gets nice and blank for a while; like how her mind gets when she's coding but infinitely more brilliant than that.

"Call me Wardo again, Mark, please,"

She does, tracing his name against his lips with hers and he's kissing her again.

It takes her awhile to notice that he's saying something. Even longer for her to understand what he's repeating against his skin.

But when she does, she lets herself hope that even in this universe they're in where Mark had been less receptive and Eduardo hadn't listened when Mark needed him to; this universe where there are closed accounts, dilutions, abandonment, and betrayals, maybe they could have something that would last.

"I'm staying," Eduardo repeats against her lips as he traps her body against Mark's kitchen counter. "I'm staying," he says again as Mark wraps her legs around him. "I'm staying, I'm staying, I'm staying," over and over and over until Mark is boneless from the words and his tongue and his cock inside her.

"Good," she gasps out. "Good."


End file.
